


Always Thinking of You

by Melodious329



Category: Kane (Band)
Genre: M/M, hurt/comfort bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-19
Updated: 2011-04-19
Packaged: 2017-10-18 08:52:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melodious329/pseuds/Melodious329
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hurt/Comfort Bingo Square:  Pining/Confession in a desperate situation</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always Thinking of You

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I neither own nor know any of the real persons after whom these characters are created

Steve had no idea how it started. Sure he’d always thought Christian was hot, from the moment he stepped into a room. He wasn’t Steve’s type, though. Steve had always explored all sexual avenues open to him, but he had always preferred women. He liked curvy women, soft in all the right places underneath him, soft demeanor that suited his laid back, devil-may-care attitude and who followed his lead.

But Chris burrowed under his skin from the very beginning despite being too loud, too brash, too muscular, too much. Still Steve invited him to a house party, at which Steve saw Christian’s softer side, the Christian that laughed low and smiled crookedly, sang in a voice full of emotion and treated the guitar like it was a baby. Yeah, Steve wanted him, but that’s not when it started.

Because after that, after just wanting to get into Christian’s loose jeans so badly Steve thought his dick would drill a hole through his own jeans, there was friendship. The kind of friendship that came easily, where they each gave readily of themselves. Christian was…both exactly what he seemed and completely the opposite. They just fit, their hard edges prodding against each other until finding a corresponding cranny to call home.

They wrote songs, they made a band, they gained an audience together. They separated for different projects but always came back together. They got drunk together after shows, at each other’s houses, at their friend’s houses, neither sure who was propping up whom or who had drunk the most, hands waving excitedly in the recounting of some story to an indulgent friend, hands that lingered on one another more often than not. They met each other’s families, shared hotel rooms and slept in the same bed when necessary.

It had been ten years. And somehow, at some unknown time, Steve had moved beyond fucking and friends. For shit’s fucking sake, he was fucking in love with Christian fucking Kane.

And Steve couldn’t tell him. Christian was his best friend, Christian was terrible at relationships, Christian was still more than half-besotted with Whitney, Christian had never been with a man which Steve knew thanks to a drunken night of stupid drinking games. Christian couldn’t be out in Hollywood and still play a leading man, couldn’t be out and be a country musician.

Steve talked himself out of it a million times, but one night in a hotel room, after an awesome set, both of them high on adrenaline and enthusiasm and praise, not to mention Jack and Miller Lite and pot, one night they had been sitting on one bed together laughing, and there had been a moment, a moment after they had both stopped laughing over something Jason had said to a fan and there had been silence, a stillness that Steve felt reeked of anticipation. Steve had leaned forward, gently brushed a strand of brown hair away and left his hand there, cradling Christian’s face. Until Christian had tipped forward, falling into Steve and resting his face on Steve’s shoulder. The message was clear.

Except Steve’s heart was apparently deaf, dumb, and blind. Which totally explains why Steve is currently sitting in the passenger seat of the most rundown truck he’s ever seen, watching the flat farm land of Oklahoma out the open window so he isn’t watching Christian’s face as he talks since, of course, the radio in this rust-bucket is broken. Christian is too relaxed out here, too open and exposed, sitting low in the seat with one hand resting easy on the top of the steering wheel.

Steve wants him too much out here, wants the Chris that has no walls because everybody already knows all his faults, wants that effortless grace underneath him, wants that uncomplicated smile directed at him. He wants to be a part of this, a part of Christian’s home and family.

At first, Steve doesn’t understand the cloud of dust he sees. It doesn’t occur to him what it is until Christian sees it, names it.

“Shit, it’s a tornado.”

“What?!” Steve cries, sitting up from his sprawl and looking back and forth from Chris’s stern expression back to the cloud. They’re in a shitty car, on a road in the middle of nowhere, with nothing in sight to hide under in or under. And Chris is pulling the car over. “What are you doing?! Chris…?”

“Come on,” Chris says, the command in his voice not totally disguising the tension in it. But he doesn’t wait for Steve to obey, simply hops out of the cab himself and comes around the front, holding open the door as Steve climbs out hesitantly. Steve glances again at the tornado, but Chris takes his hand and his attention. Chris is all grim determination and leashed fear, his face tight and his movements economical.

They’re moving into the field not away from the tornado, the tornado that is now closer than Steve would have guessed possible considering how far away it was a moment ago. “Chris, wait…Chris, listen!”

Steve fists his hands in Christian’s soft worn flannel shirt, bringing Christian up short to face him. “Chris, I have to tell you,” he starts desperately, feeling the wind whip around them. “If I don’t do it now, maybe I never will and I’ve never felt like this before.” Steve laughs then, the sound carried away as soon as it leaves his mouth. “The romantic trying to say that I have never loved anyone, Christian, like I…”

“Don’t,” Christian’s voice is a low rumbling growl and suddenly they’re pressed tight together, one of Christian’s hands clutching Steve’s hip hard and the other a gentle weight on the back of Steve’s neck. “Not here, not like this, not when I’ve waited…” Christian’s voice is so raw, so broken, so much of what Christian never shows bleeding out and at any other time Steve would be glad to hear it. But hearing the answering fear in Christian’s voice that they may not get another chance isn’t comforting now.

They’re still clinging to each other when Christian forces them to their knees in a shallow ditch, presses Steve down on his back before Steve can think to resist, not that he would resist even though he realizes now what Christian is doing lying on top of it. He just closes his eyes and wraps his arms around Christian’s waist, squeezing tight enough to affect Christian’s breathing. Not that it matters right now as the wind howls around them.

For a moment, Steve feels the wind pulling at Christian, trying to steal him away, but Steve will be damned if he’s gonna let that happen and he wraps his legs around Christian too. Whatever happens, they’ll meet it together. He doesn’t know how long any of it lasts, until the wind dies down to a gentle breeze, the kind that he’s always glad of on a hot day like today.

He doesn’t open his eyes until he feels Christian’s long lashes fluttering against his neck. For a second, the entirety of Christian’s weight rests on Steve before Christian moves to pull back a little, forcing Steve reluctantly to loosen his grip. But Christian only props himself on his forearms so he can look down into Steve’s face.

Christian’s face is still full of fear as Steve is sure his own is, but he barely has time to wonder about the fact that they’re both still alive, before Christian has shifted his weight so his hands are cradling Steve’s face. It’s like every movie kiss of Christian’s that Steve won’t admit to carefully watching and maybe that should worry Steve, but Christian’s lips are soft and gently moving against his before a slick tongue is tracing the seam. Steve gasps, opening his mouth to invite Christian in, but Christian has already moved away, nuzzling his nose into Steve’s with his eyes still closed like he doesn’t want the moment to end.

They stay there a moment, breathing each other’s air, proof that they’re both still breathing, before Christian lifts his head again. Pieces of dark brown hair that have escaped the hair band drape around Steve’s face as eyes blue as the sky above bore into Steve’s with an intensity that Steve has never seen aimed at him.

But whatever Christian is looking for he must find as he smiles then easy as the breeze that now teases Christian’s hair and he pulls Steve up to a sitting position. “I was always thinking of you,” Christian says in explanation.


End file.
